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Chapter 6

Cristane tightened the reins around her leather gloves. Though the snow had melted and no more had taken its place, every ride was attended by the sound of her horse’s hooves crunching on the frozen ground. Not for the first time, she chastised herself for riding by herself in the cold—a danger, to be certain, especially in her riding gown and mantle, nearly as nice as a lady’s finery—but after yesterday’s feast, she needed to escape. Even if it was just for a few minutes.

She’d attempted to help in the kitchens again this morn, only to be tossed out by Amye. What was worse, the looks she’d received from the other scullery maids had told her they did not want her there.

And so she had hurried out to the stables. The lads had prepared her horse for her, a mare Cait had given her as a gift on her day of birth the year before, and she’d ridden past the gatehouse guards with nothing more than a shouted warning.

If Cait had been with her, they’d never have been allowed to leave so easily, but no one had attempted to stop her. The cold air slapping her face felt good at first—it helped her shake off the hours she’d lain sleepless in bed.

She didn’t hear them until it was too late.

One moment, she was contemplating returning to the castle. The next, the thunder of hoofbeats surrounded her. Her gaze caught on the red and black plaids, and she bit back her surprise. McKinnon’s men. On Kennaugh soil? Rarely did their enemy venture so close to the village, and never had they dared intrude upon the chief’s residence. They typically raided closer to the borders of their own land in a constant quest to extend them.

“A lone chick so far from her nest,” spat one particularly rough-looking rider, his face dirty and long matted hair more than a bit disheveled.

So the rumors were true. Another feud was brewing, and McKinnon did not appear to be waiting for the weather to break to make himself known. And now here she was, caught in the middle of it.

“I am the personal maid to Lady Cait, sister of the chief of Clan Kennaugh.” Cristane raised her chin, ignoring the shaking of her hands. “And you, sirs, are trespassing.”

A round of laughter greeted her bold statement.

“She will do.”

Cristane had no time to react before a tug on her leg made her aware that the others had been moving while she spoke to the man who appeared to be the leader of the group. Ripped from the saddle, she nearly fell headfirst to the ground. A man caught her around the waist at the last moment, and it was only then Cristane thought to scream.

And scream she did. Loudly, for a moment at least, until a gloved hand clasped over her mouth. No amount of kicking and wriggling out of the man’s grasp seemed to help. She was carried over to another member of the group, still mounted, and hauled up into the saddle.

The stark reality of her situation hammered into her. She was being taken captive by a member of an enemy clan. Her hands were no longer alone in their violent trembling.

“If you scream again,” a menacing voice said from behind her, “I will slit your throat.”

With that, they were already on the move, traveling over the rolling, barren hills to the north of the castle and the village. Traveling away from anyone who might save her.

How could she have been so stupid? Would her absence even be noticed?

As they rode, the men remained silent with the exception of an occasional rumble of cuss words from the man behind her. Apparently, he considered sharing his saddle an inconvenience—one she would dearly love to remedy by being let go. To taunt her with as much misery as possible, the elements also conspired against her as a mixture of freezing rain and sleet began to fall.

“Bloody hell,” her foul-smelling captor cursed.

Precisely.

Her only consolation? Rarely were such abductions anything other than a provocation. If she’d thought they would truly harm her, Cristane would not have been able to remain so calm.

“We’ll enjoy a bit of sport before giving you back,” her captor sneered, as if reading her thoughts. That’s when Cristane began shivering in earnest. The wet and cold were no match for the thought of being raped by these men. Would they dare such an insult to Clan Kennaugh?

The same men who’d dared to steal her off the chief’s own land?

Aye, they would indeed.

“Ride ahead with the girl!”

No sooner was that shouted by the horseman in front of her than her captor tightened his grip. She had no idea what was happening, but the speed at which they now traveled in this weather was Cristane’s new cause for concern. Heart pounding, she closed her eyes as the icy droplets drove into her face.

“Surround him!”

Who were they talking about?

They slowed to a stop, prompting Cristane to open her eyes again. She looked over her shoulder and gasped.